Christmas with Mama Ponder
I don't know about anywhere else, but here in our holler, Christmas
preparation can be broken down into five phases [two of which are
absolutely miserable and life threatening to otherwise healthy robust
males]: Shopping, Decorating, Gift Wrapping, Baking, and Cooking:
When the last day of November rolls 'round, Mama Ponder, Dorey, Johnny,
Carla, and Tye [Baby Sister] mentally get down in a sprinter's startin'
position because they are chompin' at the bit to start preparin' for
Christmas. That usually means shoppin' - Phase One. I on the other
hand, get a cold chill what runs up my spine bone and come down with my
annual case of ole timey gripe. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy Christmas, I
just hate the preliminaries - all of them. Every Christmas I try to
promote our two households drawin' names and gettin' just one nice gift
for that person and then the members of each household can buy each other
as many gifts as they like, can afford, or can endure. Optimistic me, I
keep naively hopin' this might bring some sanity back into our lives
durin' winter time in these mountains.
Actually, Mama Ponder and Dorey, especially Dorey, love my idea. The
problem is they will never admit it to anyone but me because Johnny,
Carla and Baby Sister love to Christmas shop, give the presents, open
their presents and watch others open their presents. I believe Carla and
Baby Sister get as much enjoyment out of watchin' us open our presents as
they do from openin' their own presents. I think we all enjoy watchin'
others reactions to the present, but we're not all fanatically addicted
to the process. Talk about a guilt trip. How can I be so cruel as to
want to whittle their watchin' down a mite. I have had absolutely no
luck on that idea yet, but I've been at it for several years now so you
have to give me credit for keepin' on keepin' on or stupidity one or
tuther. Personally, if I were you, I would vote for the latter.
I am not a shopper and Mama Ponder isn't much better at it, at least not
in the same sense that the rest of our herd are. I'd be willin' to bet
that the city slickers finished their Christmas shoppin' during the first
week of November. Johnny, Carla & Baby Sister live on the outskirts of
the thrivin' metropolis of Newport, population 12,000, so I call them
city slickers.
In fact I hate shoppin' as practiced by Dorey. My sweet Dorey will spend
all day, maybe two days, visitin' malls in Morristown, Pigeon Forge,
Asheville, Knoxville, and anywhere else within what she considers a
reasonable drivin' distance shoppin' for what she considers a good buy.
The driving time to Morristown is about 45 minutes, to Pigeon Forge it is
about 1.25 - 1.5 hours, and it is about 1.5 hours to Knoxville, depending
on which mall you visit. Pigeon Forge and Morristown are only about
30-35 miles away, but you can't get there from here. You gotta go
somewhere else first and start from that there place first.
Now it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that you would be better
off payin' $5-$10 more for a Thing-a-ma-jig at a store in the Morristown
Mall than you would if you drove another 45-65 minutes farther to get
essentially the same Thing-a-ma-jig $1-$5 cheaper. If that distant store
isn't open or doesn't have that item, the cost goes up even more. That
also doesn't include chow. Throw in one meal and the prices goes up some
more. Dorey can drag me along on her safaris, but by grab she has to
allow time for me to stuff somethin' down my neck now and then.
I have offered to do all the shoppin' but my Catch 22 was: them two women
folk of mine must tell me exactly what they want me to buy before I leave
the house. That should show you right there how desparate I have become.
Therein seems to lie the whole dad-blame problem. They never seem to
know what they are lookin' fur before they go lookin' fur it and I really
find that bothersome. I mean why go shoppin' atall, if you don't even
know what you it is you want to buy? Seems to me they got the cart
before the horse, but I can't seem to get that concept to soak into their
brain housin' group. The idea is totally alien to them. What? Set down
and think first before you leap? Figure out what you want to buy and
even find out which stores have it and how much they charge fur it before
we start drivin'? No way Jose. Them too firmly believe in the Hearse
technique - throw ol' Val in the car and drive around until you buy or he
dies.
I do as much of my shoppin' at home as possible. I mean we have
department store catalogs of every shape and size that covers just about
anythang you could possibly want. Just in case ole man Sears over looks
somethin' we might take a likin' to we also have catalogs from Penney's
and other folks I can't even recall. Now think about it just a second
with me here, since we have an indoor out house and plenty of toilet
paper on hand, what other use are those catalogs? If we don't use those
catalogs for shoppin' why bother gettin' the dadgum thangs?
I shop on the computer and I actually use the information in the
dad-blame Consumer Report magazines and guides that I subscribe to. So
when I leave this house to buy somethin' serious, I usually know exactly
what I am goin' to buy and where I am goin' to get it and approximately
how much it will cost. When I do that, Mama and Dorey look at me like a
hog starin' at a watch! Walk into a store and go straight to an item,
pick it up, inspect it, take it to the cash register lady and pay for it
and go home? The man's a nut! To quote Mama Ponder, "I told you, you
had a strange one there Doris! You should've listened to your Mama
honey."
For example now, Dorey decided we needed a new Microwave and Clothes
Washer not long ago so I looked up the latest ratin's on such thangs in
the Consumer Report documents we have accumulated over the years and I
have had great luck usin' their recommendations. Dorey and I agreed
which brand and models we wanted based on Consumer Reports
recommendations. Well sir, you could've knocked me over with a feather.
I just couldn't believe my luck. I says to myself I says Self, I think I
have finally made progress here. We agreed that the items that Consumer
Reports rated as the Best Buys would be the ones we should get. At least
I thought we had agreed.
After checkin' around, we discovered that Sears in Morristown sold both
items and had several of them in stock. Joy to the world. Off we went.
When we walked in, I went straight to the "CR Best Buy" washer and said,
here is the brand and model we want. Stupid male that I was. This was
easy because I brought the Consumer Report with me. I should've known
this was goin' too smooth.
No, no, no now wait just a minute and lets look around at these others
while we're here says Dorey the Shopper. Why says I? I want to look
around first, they have some pretty washers here says my sweet Dorey.
Obviously Consumer Reports and I don't know one thing about how to buy an
appliance. So my Dorey commence to wander around all over that
department closely inspectin' every washer, dryer, stove, refrigerator
and any other large appliance that happened to attract her eye. I
expected to see her kick the darn things like she was checkin' tire
pressure, but she fooled me on that one. I mean she felt them and
smelled them and peeked into their every orfice. Meanwhile, it was my
turn to lean back against the 'Best Buy' washer and watch her like a hog
starin' at watch. Let me tell you right now, whoever said that men are
from Mars and women are from Venus hit the nail on the dadgum head. Well
finally she wandered back over to me and I says, now can we tell the man
we want this 'Best Buy' washer? No, no not yet, let's go see the
microwaves first say shes. At the time I didn't catch the plural usage
in her statement, but when we went through the same routine there to
include TVs, VCRs, and various other gadgets that I had no idea what they
were, I got the message clear as a bell. After spending a couple of
hours of her sniffin', feelin', and peekin' at appliances and while I
slowly disintegrated from the inside out, I finally got her to re-agree
to get the ones we came after in the first damn place. By the way, those
'Best Buy' thing-a-ma-jigs that we bought still work just fine.
I gave up on tryin' to shop with my dearly beloved like two sane folks
would. Instead, I developed a brand new system when I am required to
escort my sweet Dorey on her tire-kickin' trips. So far, much to the
pure disgust of my dearly beloved, my new system has worked like a charm.
Over the years I had noticed that most department stores have the decency
to place fairly comfortable chairs and benches in each area where most
women spend a lot of time. I decided that locatin' that chair before
another desperate husband did and holdin' it down tight against the floor
with my butt while I read a shoot 'em up novel or worked a crossword
puzzle would be my main function on any future shoppin' trips hereafter.
My additional duties include acting as an unpaid security guard. Dorey
puts her 40lb purse on my lap [and she actually can not understand why
she has neck and back problems], pats me on the head like a nice doggie,
tells me to guard that purse with my life and takes off through that
store just ah sniffin' ah feelin', and ah peekin'. When [and if] she
finds somethin' that satisfies her sniffer, feeler, and peeker, she
returns for her purse. At such times, I greet my sweet thang in good
spirits and a big warm smile instead of glarin' at her and doing my best
imitation of Gabby Hayes which is the norm for me if I am forced to
traipse along behind her ever step she makes. The goods she purchases
are stacked on or around me and I also assume full responsibility for
guarding those with my life. Stackin' all those skirts, jackets, shoes,
and panty hose on me relieves her of a great deal of stress, not to
mention the peace and tranquility of not havin' the world's tallest Gabby
Hayes followin' her everywhere she meanders. It also eliminates all
stress on me. I mean if a case of panty hose balanced on your head don't
stress you out, you're unshakeable. This works out just fine.so far, but
I decided to take two books from now on - just in case.
We also commence to decorate our home on or about the 1st day of
December - Phase Two. For many years, we ['we' meanin' Mama Ponder] just
had to have a fresh-cut real tree and that same 'we' absolutely had to
use fresh-cut evergreen branches to make our own wreaths and garland.
Ever Christmas this house smelled like a pulp wood paper mill. I don't
know if you've noticed or not, but real Christmas trees and real garland
are messy critters.
Then we [meanin' Mama Ponder] decided to switch to a livin' tree not a
cut one which just added more work because I had to plant the blame tree
the first week of January. Have you ever tried to plant an 7' tall
Christmas tree in frozen clay? You really need a jackhammer. Live trees
make an even bigger mess than a cut-tree.
Also, "we" absolutely had to have the real garland wrapped around the two
front porch posts, on the mantle, along the back porch railin', draped
down between the front porch posts and in every flower pot and window box
that was on or near the house. We also used it to make real wreaths that
hung beside the front door, back door, carport door, and the outside wall
of the carport. And just to make things interestin' all of this garland
must have a string of Christmas lights interwoven through out it. Joy to
the world.
Actually, Dorey made all the wreaths and I have to admit she makes a very
nice wreath. All of that takes a lot of evergreen cuttin's. Every year,
Mama Ponder and I would go up the hill into the woods behind our house
and whack off a ton or two of evergreen twigs. She says she takes me
along to tote the big plastic garbage bags and to feed any hungry bears
we might encounter. I kept askin' her why we never brought any food
scraps to feed the bear, but I never did get an answer.
It usually took four or five garbage bags stuffed to the brim to do the
job. It didn't take many Christmas seasons fur us to convert our woods
into what could have passed for a hurricane disaster area. I sort of
pull the bill of my orange Go Vols cap way down over my eyeballs when I
see a forestry truck ah comin' down the road. I never know when this
evil life we're leadin' is gonna catch up to me. After the first couple
of years, ever time them raggedy lookin' evergreen saplings spotted Mama
Ponder ah coming up that hill with her clippers they would just naturally
commence to tremble. I swear I could almost hear them poor thangs ah
cryin'.
Well after workin' on it for several years, Dorey and I finally convinced
Mama Ponder we should buy an artificial tree, artificial wreaths, and
artificial garland. When she finally agreed, you could have knocked me
over with a feather again. Now that ole gal she don't climb that hill so
good anymore, but her and I, and sometimes Dorey too, still climb it
every year anyway. You see, Mama insisted on still usin' the live
evergreen cuttin's in all the flower pots and window boxes which
translates into only two garbage bags full so I'm gainin' on it. But we
still scare hell out of those poor trees.
We don't get nearly as carried away with outdoor Christmas lights as some
of the folks around here. I know some of them have to apply for
assistance from social security just to pay December's electric bill.
Actually, just between you and me, I think each of these Christmas
preparations has cost me about ten years off my life, so don't be
surprised if I drop dead before I finish this. I mean I'm already way
overdue at the Pearly Gates. By my cipherin' I should be at least 300
years old by now. But land o' Goshen, if I see just one mall on the
other side of the Pearly Gates, I just might ask if it would be possible
for me to just pitch a pup tent outside the gate. I mean after all,
Dorey and I can hold hands through the fence ever day. All dadburn day
long if she wants. I don't know what I could do with all of those gold
streets and no pickemup truck to peel out in anyway. May have to offer
to help ol' St. Peter polish the gate hinges to make a deal, but it would
be worth it.
Well, Mama and I just finished gift wrappin' Dorey's presents for this
year and I have to admit that we are finally getting' our act together.
It only took us 18 years. Dorey is the ideal gift wrapper. She wraps our
presents and the presents we get fur the City Slickers. She could work
at any department store in the country wrappin' gifts. She knows all the
tricks with the ribbons and bows too. I mean her gifts look good enough
to eat?paper, ribbons and all. Mama Ponder is so hyper she almost has a
stroke when I even mention anythin' about gift wrapping. I mean we're
talkin' about a Jerk-and-Smack-It Specialist of the highest order here
folks ah tryin' to take her time and make the corners and bows look just
so. No way Jose. Until this year that is. This year I made her go slow
and take a ten minute break after wrappin' ever two gifts. We did just
fine. It only took us 4 hours to wrap 9 gifts and afterwards Mama Ponder
had to lay down and take a nap to rest up.
Well the cookin' part is just like it was for Thanksgivin' so just go
back and read that part agin, but the bakin' and the special Christmas
treats are somethin' else. Those two women make candy of all kinds,
cookies of all kinds, and maybe a cake to repay someone for somethin'
special they did fur us durin' that year. They make different kinds of
fudge, some with nuts and some without, white chocolate and dark. They
put peanut butter between two Ritz crackers and then coat it with dark
chocolate. They cover different kinds of roasted nuts with chocolate.
They make peanut brittle that is certified to be addictive. They make
pinwheel cookies using dates. These cookies are what Dorey hates to make
the most. They make several kinds of sugar cookies, peanut butter
cookies, chocolate chip cookies, and some I don't know what the hell they
're called. They make about 50 gallons of party mix, most of which is
for other people. They make several cheese balls that are so good they
gotta be life-threatenin', most of which is for other people.
Those two fuss at each other from the time they turn the oven on until
they finally finish all the baking. This must be one of them mother and
daughter thangs. Every year both of them swear they aren't gonna make
any more candy and cookies next year. They have sworn that every year
for at least 18 years that I know about. I can't get either one of them
to bet me on it though.
On Christmas mornin', Johnny, Carla and Baby Sister open their presents
that they have at their home and then they go to Carla's parents and open
the presents they have for them over there and then they come here to do
the same.
When they get here, the first thang we always do is send Baby Sister on
her Christmas treasure hunt. I started this when she had just started
walkin' and she liked it so much, I kept it up. One day Tye declared it
to be part of our family tradition so it has to be done every year. Every year I have
either drawn her a map to follow to the treasure or I have drawn her up a
series of hints tellin' her where to look for it. The treasure is a
total of one hundred dollars in cash that we have saved for her in her
piggy bank [Johnny's old piggy bank from when he was a kid] durin' the
past year. Mama Ponder and I build up the treasure by bettin' between us
on Tennessee sports. Of course Mama Ponder always gets Tennessee and she
decides how much we're goin' to bet on each game. But instead of payin'
our losses to each other we pay Baby Sister. Well, that's how we used to
do it..until the year that the Vol's football team and the Lady Vols
lost so many games. I think it was 1999, but I won't swear to
it. That did it for Mama Ponder. Did I tell you that she just can not
tolerate losin? Even if the money goes to her only Granddaughter? Even
if the bet is seldom more than $2 to $5? Now I just drop in the hundred
dollars just before Christmas. Come to thank of it, that's about right
now.
After the treasure hunt, we eat dinner. After dinner, we gather around
that beautiful artificial tree and take turns openin' our presents. I
think Baby Sister is about to outgrow the treasure hunt and will probably
want to just pocket the cash. Well, I guess I better remember to go to
the bank tomorrow and get Baby Sister her Christmas money. Christmas is
almost on us, but I have plenty of readin' material to last me for any
post-Christmas gift exchange trips.
From me and our family to you and yours, we wish you a very safe and
Merry Christmas and a very prosperous and safe New Years.
Ho ho ho your dadburn self fat man! Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle
all the way.
2001
Don "Val" Valentine, Brer Bear
Remember New York!
http://www.don-valentine.com
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